


Bás

by iwritetragediesnotsin



Series: The Curses of Sleeping Death [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Auror Harry, Different Universes, F/M, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Interdimensional Travel, Legilimency, Master of Death, Occlumency, Older Harry, Slytherin Harry, voldemort - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25888972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritetragediesnotsin/pseuds/iwritetragediesnotsin
Summary: Harry Potter has fought his demons. 10 years after his battle with Voldemort ended, however, the master of death is drawn to a different dimension where he is asked to train his younger counterpart. The man accepts, hopeful to help at least one of his counterparts can have a good life. Will he defeat this Voldemort? Will he guide Harry toward love and acceptance or towards a more cynical and paranoid path?
Relationships: Implied Harry Potter/Nymphadora Tonks
Series: The Curses of Sleeping Death [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1883839
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Bás

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a oneshot, inspired by a prompt on the subreddit r/HPfanfiction (https://www.reddit.com/r/HPfanfiction/comments/i4lztc/the_order_of_the_phoenix_summon_harry_from/), which goes as follows: They summon someone to defeat Voldemort and get exactly what they wanted. Some 50+ year old Head of the DMLE Harry, or 150+ year old semi-retired Headmaster Harry, or something. At this point in his life he's Voldemort's equal or more and he knows what to do. He's pretty peeved about getting kidnapped like that, but they're not assholes about it and he's very understanding, works with them, has some interesting interactions, possibly a badass Harry & Dumbledore teamup scene or two, then he gets sent home.
> 
> I do use heights, so I would like to clarify: 5'5" is about 161 cm, and 5'7" is just about 170. "Bás" is the Gaelic word for death, and cotlud means "the act of sleeping". Hope you like it! I'm also really sorry if you get confused by who is who. I really tried to differentiate them.

He sighed tiredly as he tried to explain to the odd doppelgängers of late warriors that he’d been retired for years. Who would have thought that being lulled into a vortex on his day off would have turned out to be such a mess?  
“But Voldemort is still a threat now!” Cried someone who looked to be Nymphadora Tonks. Her hair was a shocking pink and short, which contrasted from the long and soft bluebell he was used to. He kind of liked it. Maybe he’d ask Dora her thoughts. 

Harry Potter, former Slytherin, now Minister of Magic, had been kidnapped - to put it honestly and bluntly- into a different dimension, a bizzare world. At age 27, he was the youngest minister of magic, and had defeated Voldemort 10 years before. But they didn’t know that he wasn’t someone to not be taken lightly. 

He wasn’t being held captive, really, not physically, anyway. Sure, he wasn’t tied to the chair, handcuffed, or physically restrained in any way. However, he was surrounded by what appeared to be the dimension's best fighters, all of whom were in the middle of the war and trying to determine if he was a threat or an ally.

He contemplated trying to fight them all. Dumbledore was probably waiting outside, but there were only three people in the room with him: people who appeared to be Molly Weasley, Severus Snape and Nymphadora Tonks. That would probably be more trouble than its result.

“So,” he began dryly. “Why do you need me, when you have a Harry Potter of your own?”

“He’s only a child!” Shrieked Molly Weasley. Harry cringed slightly. He had liked the woman, as overbearing on her children as she was. It never really bothered him, anyway. They weren’t friends, though he had heard much about how “dirty” the Weasleys were from his yearmates. 

Harry inferred that this version of him was still a teenager. Mrs. Weasley was clearly protective of him, preferring to view him as a child instead of a teenager with a burden on his shoulders. He wasn’t sure what he liked better. 

Tonks- Merlin, he hadn’t called her that in so long- was leaning against the slimy wall with peeling wallpaper. He peered around the dusty space, noticing a rocking chest of drawers. Maybe a boggart? She was twirling her wand around her nimble fingers in a figure eight motion, looking over at him with a curious smile. 

He turned his attention to the lurking man in the corner, remembering the bully from his childhood. This man had let others have power over him because of some sick childhood grudge. In a way, Harry was almost grateful. His experiences made him the man he was. He had often wondered, if given the chance, would he go back and change everything? Maybe he could make a difference today, with this Harry. 

“Fine. I’ll train this… version of me to defeat Voldemort.” He bit out, wondering whether he was ever going to get a break. The door eerily creaked open, and the headmaster stepped into the moldy room. 

“Thank you for agreeing, my boy.” Dumbledore spoke up as he entered. “We do have someone who would like to see you.”

Harry turned his face and emotions to stone, reminding himself not to let anyone see what was behind the face. He had been through hell, and he knew better than to trust whomever was coming through the door. Who else would appear but Sirius Black. Harry resisted the feral urge to snarl the stunning charm and get rid of the man again. 

“Bloody hell...” Sirius whispered, looking at the man who had Lily’s green eyes but James’s messy black hair. He was sat down in a rickety old chair, in the middle of the old master bedroom, glaring at Sirius with such vitriol. The markéd difference between this man and Sirius’s best friend- other than his eyes and chin, of course- was the shocking scars on the side of his face, right below the natural cheekbones. They looked almost new, but he could tell that they were made by a cursed knife. The word ‘mudblood’ was engraved into the skin on his forearm as well, as stark red as if it had been made yesterday. 

“This…” His mouth was dry. “This is Harry?” 

“I suppose he’s not a traitor in this universe?” Harry inquired, leaning back in the chair and trying to project an aura of nonchalance. He ignored the astounded men.

“Whatever do you mean?” Mrs. Weasley said. Snape watched with careful alarm. This boy had been trained and beaten, just like he had. He idly wondered how this golden boy had learned such Slytherin-like tactics. 

“In my world, Sirius Black was the second secret keeper of my parents, after Remus Lupin stepped down from the post.” Black looked like he was about to speak up, but Harry pushed on. 

“Do you know what he did to his best friends?” Harry spat, his green eyes aflame with anger. There was a pregnant pause.“He turned them over to the dark lord.”

“He had joined the Knights of Walpurgis, desperate for his family’s approval. He then betrayed my parents to Voldemort, leaving Remus Lupin as the fall man!” Harry roared, barely restraining himself from standing up and killing Black. He thought he would have had more control than this, but seeing the face that had haunted his dreams for years brought back the nightmares.

Dumbledore was unruffled, therefore choosing to ignore his outburst and asking Harry to tell a bit about himself. Harry did not let his guard down. His face was apathetic, his eyes the only window to his soul. 

“I am 27 years old. I joined the auror force at 18, and became the youngest head of Magical Law Enforcement, as well as the youngest Minister of Magic. Voldemort was defeated when I was 17. I fought alone.”

“That makes no sense!” Tonks said. “Where was the order of the Phoenix?”

He gave a bitter laugh. “Why would they care? I am a Slytherin, through and through. Their golden boy was a snake. I had no one.” Harry elongated the s’s and stared Severus Snape in the eyes, daring the bully to look into his memories. 

“Y’know, the one thing I learned when surviving seven years in the house of snakes is that injuries don’t matter when they can be healed right away, but the pain never fully leaves you.”

“My apologies that you had to endure that, my boy.” Dumbledore tried to placate him.

“I had to climb my way from nothing, research by myself, because it didn’t matter if you were a Slytherin when you were a... mudblood.” He spat out the slur like it was the scum of the earth. Everyone flinched, as if they had been struck. “Slytherins value house loyalty above all. No one noticed or cared because it only happened in the common room.”

“I endured that word for years. My year mates and those in my house blamed me for their parents going to Azkaban. I was in the pit of snakes, and all I could do was remain invisible and take the beatings like I had every year before from my relatives.” His breathing was ragged. He had waited so long to get this out, because he knew that at very sight of any weakness, his position could’ve been taken from him.

“So, yes, I will train your little Gryffindor golden boy, I will make sure he is prepared. I will make sure that no one ever breaks him like they did me.”

They all looked astounded, Molly Weasley exchanging a look with Tonks. Why had no one helped this boy? What happened to him to make him go into Slytherin?

“I’d like to be shown to my room. Then, perhaps, we can sit down for a nice meal, and... talk.” It was a dangerous word. Did they really want to know more? They all exchanged a look before turning to Dumbledore. Harry stared the man down, and a challenge was made. Dumbledore agreed, nodding at Tonks to show him to his room. He stood, shaking his hands and rolling back his shoulders. He gave a look to the two men on his way out of the room, pleased to see their shell shocked looks. On the way, he remained in his facade of calm, helping her up as she tripped over different things laying around the hallways.

“You’re quite different from the ‘Dora I know.” He commented after the sixth time she had nearly face-planted.

“Oh?” Tonks said. “What am I then? Tall? A janitor? No, don’t tell me.... Am I Veela?”

Harry chuckled. “Still shorter than me. We’re quite good friends, you know. Partners on the auror force. Your hair is just a bit different, as is your face, but I learned to recognize you anywhere.”

“How?” She looked dumbfounded. Tonks had trained herself not to unconsciously choose the same facial features. She usually let her colleagues learn her identity through code words. Perhaps they were close enough to let him know one. 

“Speech patterns.” He said simply, turning the corner and striding along. She jogged to keep up with him. She noticed another difference between the Harry she knew and the one before her. She was only about 165 cm, and this Harry towered over her. His younger counterpart was only 14, however, and was a bit taller than her at 170. 

“How good of friends are we?” She asked. Harry gave a small smile, a distant look in his eyes as he continued to walk up the stairs. 

“You were part of my wedding party.” He refused to elaborate, giving her only a secretive smirk. She glanced down, finally noticing the Celtic knot ring on his finger with an odd broken stone in the middle.

“Handsome man like you? Who’s the lucky lady? Anyone I would know?” He gave her a wink.

“Spoilers.” Huffing, Tonks stopped at a door in the middle of the third floor.

“Lovely.” He said, pushing it open carefully. There was a rickety bed in the corner, with different suitcases lined up against the wall. He reached into his pocket, retrieving his wand- Tonks noticed it strangely resembled Dumbledore’s- and what looked like a small suitcase.With a concise movement, the suitcase was enlarged and had begun to unpack. Harry turned back to Tonks, offering his arm with a handsome and roguish grin.

“Now, my good lady, I think it’s time I met everyone.” She accepted it and they walked down the stairs once more in silence.He paused at the end of the staircase, drawing his confidence like he did each time he had to enter the great hall, flashing back to the torment.

“Are you alright?” Tonks inquired. He nodded stiffly, stepping down into the landing. The chatter immediately stopped and everyone at the long table stared at him in comedic fashion.

“Blimey, Harry!” A voice cried. “He looks like you!”

“Em,” Dumbledore hesitated. “May I introduce... Harry Potter?” The hubbub erupted, and he steeled himself to the noise, refusing to let himself be swallowed in the memories of the rush of battle. A great flash appeared, leaving everyone blinking and their ears ringing.

“If you’d allow me to explain myself.” He said quietly. “My name is Harry James Potter. I am from what appears to be a different dimension.”

The other Harry stared at him, memorizing and recognizing each of the features that he saw in the mirror each morning. The green eyes he was often complimented on were unobscured by glasses, though they were the same colour. They had the same colour hair too, although this man’s hair was a bit longer. He had the beginnings of a beard, something that Harry wished he could do. The one thing that drew his attention, was the long, red, and scabby scars that ran down this man’s face. It only highlighted the tragic beauty to his visage, as well as the lightning scar on his brow. 

“I believe we all should eat.” He commanded the room and the attention surrounding him, and they all dug into their meals. Tonks looked between the two of them, noticing and marveling at the similarities and differences that thirteen years and a different life had made.She wondered, though.... What differences would he make here?  
“Wotcher, Harry.” He gave a small smile, eating in concise bites after casting a spell over it. 

“Too many attempts on my life.” He explained it away, clearly enjoying the food. Tonks looked on in shock, wondering how battle scarred this man was. 

“So, er, Harry,” One of the red heads down the other end called to him. He looked up, trying to remember their names before realising that it was Ginny Weasley, the girl who had died in second year, leaving the Weasleys in grief. 

“Yes, Ms. Weasley?” The little red haired girl in the middle of the table blushed at the attention, and Harry remembered the service held at the end of the year. He couldn’t do anything. He bit the inside of his mouth, trying to remind himself of everything that had happened wasn’t his fault. 

“Tonks said that you’re married.” She looked down at the table, fiddling with the ends of her long red hair. 

“Did she now?” He shot a look toward Tonks, who gave a faux innocent look. It didn’t quite have the effect she might have wanted it to, because her nose was still that of a pig- it reminded him of Dudley. He barked out a laugh, then turned back to the girl. 

“As a matter of fact, young lady, I am. We’re going on three years. Already have a pair of twins: Lily and Adriane.” 

“Do you think she’ll be the same... in this dimension?”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure. It’s kind of like when you see a photograph of someone you know, but it's from years before you knew them. It's like they're not quite finished—they're not done yet. I don’t know if she’ll be the same woman I love.”

Ginny flushed again, glancing down at an oblivious 14 year old Harry Potter, who was gazing at his older doppelgänger with hope. The older Harry had never really cared for redheads. He didn’t really want to have an oedipus complex over his own wife, though she did frequently tease him. 

“We,” Harry paused, his eyes full of hope. “We have a family?”

“Of course.” There was a long and heavy silence that draped over the table like a cloak. Talking seemed taboo, so the air was filled with munching and the clinking of serving utensils against containers. 

“I must say, Mrs. Weasley, I think your food is the best I’ve ever tasted.” He gave her a charming smile. Cleaning his plate, he turned back to the younger version. 

“I do believe we should start training after dinner. Something easy. I would like to gauge your skills.” Harry eagerly nodded. 

Dinner passed within a blur, conversation and laughter melting together as drinks and food were discussed. Ron’s older brothers set off a cannon, and Harry watched with alarm as no one noticed that their golden boy was shaking in terror, though he brushed it off with a laugh when someone looked. He remained stoic for the most part, charming Mrs. Weasley when he recognised that she had the reins of the household. 

After helping a grateful and flustered Mrs. Weasley clear the table and get the dishes washed, Harry stepped away from the table and grabbed the knives from his pockets, determinedly twirling them around his fingers like Tonks had earlier. He arrived at a worn door that led into what seemed to be a formal dining room. 

Harry quickly magicked away the dusty table and chairs, shrinking them to the size of teacups and placing the set inside the cupboard. Soon, the room was nearly spotless, with only the few portraits hanging on the walls as the indication of age. He recoloured the walls, finding the gaudy silver and green a tad much. A calming navy did the trick for him. 

Younger Harry entered the room to see his older self sitting calmly on a floating silver pouf. His eyes were closed, and his legs were crossed. He appeared to be mediating, yet he seemed at peace that he looked like he was sleeping upright. 

“Er, hello?” Harry hesitated, unsure of whether or not to speak up. 

“Sit down on the red one next to me, please.” He did as instructed. 

“Tell me, Harry… What do you know about legilimency?” Seeing his junior’s blank look, he sighed. “Merlin, have they taught you anything?”

“Legilimency in its simplest form is something you might call… ‘mind reading’. You’ll find that practitioners disdain that term as naive. Legilimency is the act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings. A person who practises this art is known as a Legilimens.” He took a breath and closed his eyes. “The opposite of Legilimency is Occlumency, which is used to shield one's mind from the invasion and influence of a Legilimens.”

“So… Er- You’re going to be teaching me the… ockloomancy thing… Why?” Harry butchered the word. The slytherin double nodded and began to explain. 

“Voldemort has used Legilimency extensively, both wandlessly and nonverbally, to enter the minds of those he wished to interrogate. It was even said that it was "the dark lord's pleasure to invade the mind". In the past, Voldemort entered the minds of his victims and created visions that would drive them to madness. Due to the link between himself and… us, both can access each other's thoughts, if Voldemort does not block it off with Occlumency. Voldemort has been considered, mainly by his Death Eaters, to be the most accomplished Legilimens ever.” He knew that he had given the Gryffindor a challenge. The junior looked determined to succeed. 

“The goal here is to protect your mind. This prevents you from those nightmares,” Harry gave a strange face before realising who was talking. “As well as protects your knowledge-”

“Harry!” Sirius ran into the room. Both of the Potters stared at him, one in surprise and the other in annoyance. 

“Yes?” The senior asked wearily. 

“There’s been an attack on Godric’s Hollow. We’re going to go check it out. Stay right here.” Sirius dashed away and Harry turned back to his younger clone, who was rolling his eyes. 

“Well, at least they’re telling me things now.” He grumbled. “Why even tell me if I can’t even go?”

Harry twisted his mouth in indecision. Turning to his younger self, he ordered the boy to continue practicing. With that, Harry aparated to Godric’s hollow. 

The small village was bursting with different colours of light as spells flew left and right. Harry grunted as he ducked down, thankful that he hadn’t worn robes that morning. Hissing the stunning spell back in parseltongue, he dodged behind a house to find Remus Lupin camped out behind it. Shocked, Harry crouched down, unsure of what to do. 

“I thought I told you not to come, Sirius.” The man said, not even bothering to look at him. Harry raised his eyebrows. 

“Not Sirius, I’m afraid.” Harry responded easily, shooting a spell that ripped the nearby Death Eater’s wand away from him. Remus looked over in shock. 

“James?” He whispered, suddenly oblivious to the chaos around them as a broom splintered and exploded on the other side of the road and some poor soul turned to mush from a spell. 

“Fraid not.” Harry stood up, peering around the side. “Harry Potter. I’m from a different universe.” Remus sputtered as Harry began calmly walking into the firing squad, dispatching different assailants with a muttered hiss and flick of his wand. He didn’t even look, and the whole world seemed to stop and slow down to watch him. 

He kneeled down beside a fallen body, closing the man’s eyes in the heat of battle. He didn’t recognise the man’s face, but he mourned the loss of a warrior. There was an unconscious man on the other side of the corpse, one with long blond hair and a death eater’s disguise. 

With disgust, he silently cast a spell that would put the man in a coma for 100 years. It was based off of the draught of living death. He had designed it by himself, sitting alone in his office. It was quite useful against enemies. It made sure that they wouldn’t fight back. After all, there was no cure- that his opponents knew off. 

“Bás cotlud.” Kicking off the mask, he exposed Lucius Malfoy and proceeded along. The scum didn’t deserve his time. Blasting pieces of rubble out of the way, Harry advanced to the epicenter of the battle. In the middle, dueling three of the order’s finest, was Bellatrix Lestrange. 

Harry smirked, silently slicing through the air with his wand for a simple ‘diffindo’. Bellatrix dodged the hex, snarling and whirling around to see who had it thrown her. Abandoning her past foes, she twisted and casted her magic and power toward this newcomer who had nearly taken off her head. 

“Y’know, I do believe that we are… second or third cousins once removed.” Harry commented as he blocked and parried against Bellatrix. She jeered back at him, irately throwing jinx after hex in succession that didn’t seem to have any effect on him. 

“Who are you?!” She shrieked. He smiled, shielding against another killing curse. Even in a different universe, crazy Bella never changed or got more creative. Strangely, she seemed to have more of her mental facilities in this dimension. 

“No one of consequence.” He replied, knowing that it would successfully infuriate her more. Finally, with a last body bind, a panting Harry summoned her wand from the witch’s grasp. Walking over, he asked one question. 

“Alright then. Where’s your master?” She spit in his face. Frowning, Harry raised his wand. It’d be easier now that she was thinking about it. 

“Hm…. And to think I was hoping you would work with me.” He summoned the memory from inside her mind, watching the silvery mist slip into the little bottle on the pocket on his shirt. With a sarcastic smile, he gave a bid of thanks before casting the curse of living death. She fell down, and he turned to Tonks, who had rushed up beside him.  
“Wotcher, Harry.” 

“Would you mind taking your aunt to headquarters? Don’t mind her, she won’t wake up unless I let her. Also, could you send for Dumbledore to join me? I assume he’ll know where I am based on that tracking spell he placed on me earlier in case I decided to run away.” 

“Be careful.” She warned him. He answered back with the same roguish grin from earlier. 

“Careful? Tried that once. Ever so dull.” With an amused nod, Tonks apparated away to Grimminauld place. Harry pursed his lips as he pulled the memory from the bottle and implanted it into his own mind with a swirl of his wand. Scrunching his nose, he viewed the memory- now his- in his own thoughts. Using the memory, which was of Bellatrix the sycophant offering herself to her lord and something Harry would immediately remove from his memory when he had no more use for it, he discerned the location where Voldemort was hiding out. 

“Malfoy Manor?” He questioned, wondering just how many politicians the Malfoys had their pocket. Concentrating on his destination, Harry teleported away. He popped just outside of the grounds, careful not to alert their wards. Focusing, Harry cast a type of confundus spell that would trick the wards into thinking he was a Malfoy house elf. He then used a disillusionment and a notice-me-not charms for good measure. 

Oddly, sneaking in was easier than he thought it would be. Other than the odd albino peacock, Harry didn’t run into much trouble. Entering the drawing room, Harry felt an immediate chill when he saw the face of Voldemort. It was the face that still haunted his nightmares to that day, but Harry steeled his nerves and reminded himself that he had 10 more years experience than the last time, and this Voldemort was still weak from the ceremony that had brought him back from the dead. 

He assumed that there was little to no chance that Dumbledore had destroyed the horcruxes- something that infuriated Harry to no end, so his only chance would be to use his signature spell. Voldemort was sitting in his stone throne in the head of the room. It was strangely and almost hilariously theatrical, boasting his opinion that they wouldn’t be discovered. 

Casting a silent stunner, he stood by the doors. There was no sense in crouching and hiding in a corner where he could be trapped. Staying by the exit gave him the opportunity to retreat if need be, as well as the advantage to block any back-up that he doubted the self-confident dark lord would need.  
As per his expectation, Voldemort immediately went on guard, pulling out his yew wand. Harry grasped his own even more tightly, wondering how the dark lord would match up against him. 

“Show yourself.” Voldemort ordered. Sighing, Harry removed his glamour and charms, keeping his wand at the ready. Adrenaline was pumping through his body as he bowed sarcastically, maintaining eye contact with He-who-must-not-be-named. 

“Who dares challenge me?” Harry could tell that he was spooked. Voldemort’s magical reserves were low from the regeneration of his body and maintaining his horcruxes. Harry had done his research in his own universe, often using his skill in manipulation- a little blackmail didn’t hurt either- to find or learn information that would help him. 

Doing so, he had discovered that Voldemort’s power supply had been draining for years. He had used the majority of his magic and soul to create horcruxes. It was just a race against time, karma, death and Hecate herself to get him in power before he had no reserves left. To put it simply, he wasn’t exactly a sitting duck, but he was near close to one for Harry. 

“The master of death.” Harry replied. Voldemort was struck by the resemblance of this careless stranger to a daring man he had killed nearly 15 years before. 

“You lie!” He shrieked in his cold and high voice, casting the green curse of death after Harry, who quickly dodged. 

“I do not.” He answered, for he was not lying. 

“Fight me like a man!” Voldemort became more and more enraged as Harry refused to reciprocate his spells, deciding to shield himself against the villain and drain more of the dark lord’s energy before Dumbledore would arrive. 

“I will,” Harry called back. “When you start acting like one!” Merlin, he was beginning to act like a Gryffindor. He had been retired from battle for nearly three years then, so he was just getting back into his groove. Voldemort growled almost inhumanely when Harry decided to finally fire back in Parseltongue. 

“You speak the sacred language!” He hissed in surprise, but didn’t let up on his barrage on Harry. Harry didn’t really expect him to anyway. In his distraction, the doors burst open, and there was Dumbledore in all of his furious glory. 

His bright blue robes- highly impractical and distracting if you would have asked Harry- billowed with a strange and dramatic wind that blew his beard to the side. It was Dumbledore’s magic manifesting, a sort of show of power, like the haka from New Zealand’s rugby team. It was an old custom simply meant to intimidate your opponent. The elder wand, identical to Harry’s own, was clutched in his fist. 

“Dumbledore….” Voldemort hissed. With a nod, Harry and Dumbledore began attacking in perfect unison. It was a beautiful dance, a show of power with different multi coloured beams that slowly began to wear him down. They simultaneously wove their webs of magic, the whinny of a thestral in the background as the two most powerful wands in existence worked together to defeat the cheater of death. 

Sparks of all colours flew as the wind continued to whip around them. Harry fired spell after spell, advancing closer and closer. Voldemort began to get desperate. He sent off stray stinging hexes, one catching Harry in the arm, but the fight went on. 

Killing curses weren’t the only things shot. After all, Dumbledore did represent the light, not to mention the fact that he knew better. Instead, Harry searched the deep recesses of his memories to recall the jinxes and curses that he had heard, used, and had been used on him in the past. He cast the cutting curse, tripping jinx, and bat bogey hex, all meant to distract and incapacitate his opponent. 

Dumbledore swirled one last sectumsempra, leaving Voldemort gasping for air as he desperately tried to conjure his magic, but there was none left. Harry smiled victoriously as he looked at Dumbledore. The old headmaster stepped aside for the younger man proudly, curious at what he was going to do. 

Usually, you’d expect the hero to make a funny little quip or heartfelt speech about all the things the villain had done. Harry didn’t spare a thought to such trivial things. Why give him time to recollect himself?

“Who… are you?” Voldemort croaked for the last time. Harry stared down at the old man on the ground with revulsion. His skin, the sickly colour of expired milk, was beginning to peel and flake off as he frantically tried to get his wand to work and to pick himself up. He was too weak. 

“Death.” Harry said, and that was the last thing Voldemort knew. Later, before returning home, Harry would pass along the knowledge of the curse of living death, promising his junior that it could prove very valuable someday.


End file.
